


Watching a Caged Sun Rise

by StarWolf802



Category: NatePat / AntiMare, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Angst, Forced Electroshock Therapy, Heavy Themes, Hurt Maybe Comfort?, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kidnapping, Lots of pain :c, M/M, Matthew Patrick - Freeform, Mental Health Issues, NateWantsToBattle - Freeform, Nathan Sharp - Freeform, Self-Harm, Slurs, The Game Theorists, dark youtubers, forced drugging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-04-04 23:51:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14031570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarWolf802/pseuds/StarWolf802
Summary: The sunset paints the red horizon.As I ponder what fight remains,the world grows dark behind meand everything continues to change.- Steve McKee





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my latest project! Featuring everyone’s favorite demons Natemare and AntiMatter. This is a story featuring heavy themes – if you’re squicked by mental hospitals and ableist actions/all around douchebaggery, this probably isn’t for you. 
> 
> I can’t promise regular updates on this. I’ll update when I update. Life is…chaotic right now. (Forecasting and all that jazz.)

Natemare thrashes weakly in the tight grip of the hands holding his arms behind him. The drugs they gave him make his movements slow and sluggish, unable to fight back against anything they decide to do to him. The hallway they’re dragging him down is long and plain, white walls and a smooth white floor. The monotony is broken by dim white lights and doors with plaques on them. Natemare is being pulled by too fast to see the writing on the plaques.

Staggering, Natemare almost loses his balance as he’s roughly shoved into a large room. The door is slammed behind him, and the loud bang causes him to fall to his knees in surprise. He can’t think, brain fogged and stupid, and makes a desperate attempt to stand back up. But he simply keels over, eyes slipping closed. He registers a tall man calmly walking towards him and kneeling beside him before the sedatives knock him out.

~

The first thing Natemare becomes aware of is a deep, full-body ache. His limbs feel like they weigh a hundred pounds more than they do, dragging him down and weighing him to whatever he’s laying on.

Slowly cracking his eyes open, Natemare blinks a couple times to try to get the tiredness out of them. The ceiling is plain grey tiles, and for a moment Natemare can’t remember what happened to him.

Then everything flashes back. The sound of a truck pulling up next to him on the street, getting unceremoniously tossed in the back, then being gagged and tied up. He remembers driving for a long time, at least two hours. Then the drugs – a needle roughly stabbed into his neck, the almost immediate feeling of slowness. He recalls getting his clothes torn off him and replaced with simple white pants and a white shirt, then getting hauled out of the truck and into a building.

With great effort, Natemare forces himself up into a sitting position. His vision swims, and for a moment nausea rises in him. But he draws in a deep breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head forwards.

“Ah, sleeping beauty is awake.” Natemare jerks his head up sharply at the voice, eyes flying open.

In front of him stands the same tall man Natemare saw when he was first thrown in here. Natemare slowly and clumsily stands up, realizing he was on the floor.

“Who…where…” Natemare’s voice cracks, and he swallows. “Who are you?”

“My name is Alfred,” the man says patiently. Alfred’s hair is curly and salt and pepper grey, his skin a light olive color. His eyes are deep brown, set under a high forehead. His build is slender and graceful, and he motions to the floor again, adding, “Here, sit. The knockout drugs are a real doozy.”

Natemare slowly sits down, and Alfred follows him. Neatly settling his legs under him, Alfred folds his hands in his lap. Studying him closer, Natemare gets the strange sense that he’s not human.

“Now, I imagine you have some questions.” Alfred’s voice is even and calm, like he’s done this a million times. “Before that, though, tell me your name.”

Natemare regards him suspiciously. “Why do you want to know?”

Smiling wanly, Alfred glances at his hands before looking back up at Natemare. “Because, friend, I’m afraid that you’re going to be in here a while. You might as well tell me your name.”

“Nathan,” Natemare says, his guard still up. “Just…call me Nathan.”

“Excellent.” Alfred sits up a bit straighter. “So, Nathan, as to where we are.” Raising his hand, he motions around them. “This place is Ward B of the 16 wards in Jacobus Mental Facility for the Supernatural.”

Natemare’s first instinct is to scoff. There  _is_  no mental facility for the supernatural. Demons and faeries and every supernatural creature there is takes great care to stay off the radar. But Alfred’s eyes are serious.

“You’re joking.” Letting out a nervous laugh, Natemare glances around. “I mean, um, there isn’t anything like that. Anywhere. According to the government, demons and all of us, we don’t exist.”

Alfred sighs heavily. “That was true, once. Alas, gone are the days of passing undiscovered through life. No, now if the hunters catch you, they’ll either kill you or take you here.” Alfred’s intelligent eyes fall to Natemare’s wrists. “And I can see why they brought you here.”

Natemare pulls his arms close to his chest, suddenly hyperaware of the long, ugly scars running down his inner arms. He blinks a few times, unsure of how to respond.

“Oh, no, don’t worry.” Alfred holds his arms out. “I have them too.”   
  
He’s right. His arms show the same scars, yet his are clean and faded. Almost like…he hasn’t done it in years. Like he’s healed.

“I’ve been here a long time,” Alfred says softly. “I haven’t seen my wife or children in years.”

“You had…?” Natemare glances back up to Alfred’s face. 

“Oh, yes, a human woman. Her name was Sarah. We had a boy and a girl, Abigail and Noah.” The demon sighs wistfully, eyes far away.

“How long?” Natemare asks, voice almost unable to be heard.

“Maybe…I’d say around 25 years. I’ve been here the longest.” Alfred laughs softly as Natemare’s eyes widen in shock. “Yes… It took me five to get used to being trapped like an animal.”

Alfred stands up, brushing his pants off. He holds out a hand for Natemare to take and helps the other demon stand. Natemare blinks a few times as he does, holding his other arm out to balance himself. The drugs are wearing off, and he’s able to stand without too much dizziness.

“There’s quite a few of us on this ward,” Alfred says, taking a few steps back. “All of us are some sort of supernatural creature.”

 It’s just then that Natemare notices the other people standing around the edges of the room, all wearing the white clothes. They’re of all races and ages, but exclusively men. The youngest looks to be in his early 20s, and the oldest, who is sitting in a chair, might be in his late 60s.

“This is Nathan,” Alfred says loudly, motioning towards the ebony. “He’s a demon.”

“Ah, so that’s why they put that other bed in Bateman’s room.” A younger man steps up, cracking a grin. “Running out of room, ain’t they?”

“How many times have I told you not to call him that, Christian?” Alfred frowns, and Natemare glances from one to the other nervously.

Christian just sticks his tongue out at Alfred, seemingly not caring about getting reprimanded. He has black hair and fair skin with burn marks running up from under the collar of his shirt to his jaw. His orange eyes sparkle with mischief. Natemare gets a sense of danger from him, and as he steps closer, the air smells like smoke.  

“Pleasure to meet you, Nathan.” Christian holds out a hand. Natemare hesitantly reaches forwards to shake it, murmuring a hello. He looks past the other man, wanting to shrink back from the intense gazes of the other people.

He feels like everyone is staring at him, mainly because they are. Is he that interesting? He shuffles his feet nervously, stuffing his free hand in his pocket.

Christian doesn’t seem to notice that Natemare isn’t focused on him. He stares at Natemare, looking him up and down, as if sizing him up. Natemare slowly looks back at him and tries to hold his gaze.

After a few tense moments, Christian grins. He reaches up and claps Natemare on the shoulder. “Ah, yeah, you’ll be fun to have. Here, let me introduce you to the rest of the Crazy Crew.”

~

Natemare sits with Christian and Brandon, a fairy. Brandon is slight and has a heart shaped face with small features and almond eyes. His skin is brown with scars mottling it. He says that they’re from when the demon hunters took him. They’re playing cards that one of the other men bribed one of the orderlies to get.

(When Natemare asked what they bribed him with, Christian grinned and told him it was better left unsaid. Natemare took that to mean it was something bad.)

Natemare isn’t really focused on the game, though. He notices someone that he didn’t before. At the end of the room, sitting underneath the barred window, is a wheelchair. The man in it is staring blankly at the wall.

Natemare is jerked back to the other two as Christian nudges his shoulder sharply. “Why are you starin’ at Mr. Psycho like that?”

Brandon sighs softly. “You really need to stop calling him that. And Bateman.” To Natemare, he adds, “That’s AntiMatter. He’s a schizophrenic and is prone to psychotic episodes.”

“Yeah, and he goes all ‘Hereeeee’s Johnny!’ on us.” Christian mimics the scene, holding his hand like he’s gripping a knife. “He’s a fuckin’ weirdo.”

“He doesn’t look all that weird.” Natemare studies him, head tilted to the side. “I think he’s kind of pretty.”

Christian mimics gagging, doubling over and making exaggerated retching noises. Natemare ignores him. AntiMatter, as Brandon called him, is of average build and height, with a mop of brown hair that looks like it would be soft and fluffy with proper care. His eyes are brown, and Natemare wonders why they’re so blank.

“Why does he look so…” Natemare trails off, not knowing what word he’s looking for.

“Inattentive?” Brandon suggests. “Spaced out? In a fog? Out to lunch? Dazed? Muddled? Baffled? Distracted? Not with it? Bewil–?” He probably would have continued, but someone yells “Put a sock in it!” from across the room.

“Uh…sure.” Natemare glances at AntiMatter again.

Christian sits back up, leaning back in his chair. His eyes spark. “They like to put the real crazies of this crew on a short leash.” He coughs, placing his cards face-down on the table, then slings his arm over the edge of the chair. “Matter over there got himself taken to the ECT room yesterday.”

“ECT?” Natemare asks, confused. “I thought that fell out of practice years ago…”

“Oh, nah, they still use it,” Christian says offhandedly. “In normal folk’s hospitals, it’s used in small sessions and is very controlled as a last resort.” Then his eyes darken. “But here, they use it willy-nilly on any of us they want. They could drag you out of bed in the middle of the night and take you to the room and strap you to that fuckin’ machine. That’s why none of us fight back anymore.”

Natemare goes to stand up, but Brandon stops him with a hand on his arm. “Don’t go talk to him now. Try tomorrow. He’ll probably have gotten back to his normal self again.”

“Here’s Johnny,” Christian mumbles to himself, and again picks up his cards.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for chapter: mentions of scars, slurs, medications. 
> 
> Don't really like this one, but I do want to get it out on time. Think it's too slow. Doesn't lead anywhere. Oh well. Chapter Three might be a bit delayed because I got back from spring break, but I'll do my best to get it done soon. It'll get more exciting by then, I promise!

Natemare first wakes up when there’s a loud, jarring alarm. He groggily blinks his eyes open, eyes adjusting to the early morning sunlight outside the caged window. At first, he can’t quite remember where he is. The strange fear of waking up in an unfamiliar place sets in, and he sits up quickly.

Then he remembers. The fear is replaced with despair. It _wasn’t_ a dream. It was all real.

Natemare slowly lays back down, staring up at the smooth white ceiling. All the white is hurting his eyes. White clothes, white floors, white walls, white masks. It’s going to drive him crazy in no time.

The alarm comes to mind, and he rolls over to stare at the door. Above it is a small speaker with a cage around it. Ah, that’s where it came from. He sits up again, surprised to find no restraints around him. He’s free, which is…odd, to say the least.

Slowly standing up, he pads across the floor on bare feet to the door, trying the handle. It’s locked from the outside, and he snickers quietly. Really? Simple locks? Please.

Tugging on it, he soon realizes that whatever is keeping the door closed, it beats even his demon strength. Magic of some sort, perhaps.

“The door is sealed with no less than 20 spells, all of them centered around locking.”

Natemare quickly turns around. The other person in here is awake.

Sitting in the bed next to his, AntiMatter stares at Natemare with tired eyes. His hair sticks up in places, giving him an oddly adorable ruffled look. But his face is dull and dark bags rest under his eyes. He looks even deader than he did yesterday if that’s possible. Yesterday he just looked vacant. Now he looks sad and beaten down, like he’s given up.

“Oh, you…you can talk.” Natemare stares at him dumbly. “I thought…”

“You thought I was mute? I bet Christian told you all about how crazy I am.” AntiMatter sounds bitter. “The mad scientist, yeah, that’s me.”

Natemare stares for a moment longer, then goes and sits on his bed. AntiMatter regards him with a wary gaze. He pulls his legs up closer to himself.

“Brandon told me you were schizophrenic, but that’s about it,” Natemare says softly. “Do they really use ECT on you?”

“They use ECT on all of us,” AntiMatter replies, eyeing Natemare. “What’s your name?”

Natemare reaches a hand forwards. “Nathan.”

“They call me AntiMatter, but I like Matthew better. It sounds more human,” AntiMatter replies, hesitantly reaching forwards and shaking Natemare’s hand. “Why are you here? You seem normal.”

Natemare smiles sadly. He holds both arms out, wrists up, to AntiMatter, allowing him to see the scars and wounds lining them.

“Oh,” AntiMatter says softly. “I see.” Then he glances at the door. “You should get back in your bed. They’ll be pissed if they catch you in mine.”

Natemare stands up and hurriedly walks back over to his bed, slipping under the covers. Not a moment too soon, too, because just a few seconds afterwards the door clicks and then swings open. An orderly stands there, armed with a baton. Their face is covered in a white surgical mask, and after a quick sweep with the baton, they step inside.

AntiMatter wearily stands up, holding his arms up near his head. Natemare watches as the orderly pats him down with the baton. A surge of anger makes Natemare bristle as the person gives a sharp hit to AntiMatter’s head. AntiMatter doesn’t seem phased, though, and he barely flinches.

The orderly turns towards Natemare, eyes hateful as they motion for him to stand up. He obeys, slipping out of bed and standing up. He glances at AntiMatter, who is staring at the floor, then raises his hands. As he’s being patted down with the baton, he realizes it has two prongs on it. Oh, shit. That can’t be good.

“You,” the orderly barks at AntiMatter. “Tell him where to go. He’s going to be your shadow. Got it?”

AntiMatter nods mutely. He turns to Natemare and motions for him to follow. Natemare looks over at the orderly, who follows them as they walk out into the main common room. The room is chilly, and the light is dim. Natemare can’t suppress a shiver.

Natemare follows along as all the patients line up and go down the hall, turning into a tiled room with showerheads lining the walls. The orderlies slam the doors behind them, and the patients immediately start undressing. Only AntiMatter and Natemare hesitate. Natemare looks at AntiMatter questioningly, only to find him staring at the floor again.

“Come on, psycho fag.” One of the staff spits the words at AntiMatter. “Every damn morning, you pull this shit. Undress.”

Natemare frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but he feels a prod to his side.

“Hey, emo. Clothes. Off.” One of the orderlies is staring at Natemare with baleful blue eyes. “You’re gonna get a shower.”

“Just do it, Nathan,” Alfred pipes up, stepping out of his pants. “It’ll be easier if you do.”

Natemare swallows his pride, reaching up and tugging his shirt off. He tosses it in the hamper, staring at the white tiled wall. He can feel people’s stares on him as he pulls his pants and underwear off, stepping into the now-running water. He hisses at the freezing temperature.

“You’ll get used to it,” Christian says softly, stepping into place next to him. Now that he’s naked, Natemare can see the burn scars cover most of his body. Christian gives him a surprisingly sympathetic smile, adding, “And hey, on the off chance you like boys, here’s your menu to pick from!” He throws an arm out to motion the lines of men stretched along each wall.

Natemare nods vaguely. He’s focused only on AntiMatter. Which is why when he feels hands in his hair, he yelps and goes to bat the hands away. Immediately, a hard object is brought down on his head. A sharp cry escapes him, and he falls to his knees. His vision swims as someone hauls him up by his shoulders.

“Get up,” the orderly hisses. “I’m washing your hair, dumbass.”

Natemare struggles to balance. His head throbs, and as he blinks a few times, he feels the hands return to his head. They lather astringent smelling shampoo into it, jerking his head around roughly. He grimaces, but obediently stands with his arms at his side. He hears a condescending chuckle from one of the staff.

“Good boy,” they hiss in his ear.

Setting his teeth, Natemare looks over to AntiMatter. He stands with his head down, water dripping into his eyes. The person in charge of him is talking to him, but Natemare can’t hear what they’re saying. It’s drowned out by the water.

When they get out of the shower, Natemare’s skin feels raw. They scrubbed him with something that had to have been made of metal, because now his arms and legs burn. The smell of whatever they used is stuck to him, and he hates it.

“I hate that,” AntiMatter mumbles, head down, as they file back into the main room. “Every morning they make us do that. I hate it.”

Natemare goes to sit down at one of the tables around the room, but AntiMatter takes ahold of his wrist and tugs him to stand against the wall. Natemare looks at him curiously, and AntiMatter jerks his head towards a glass window in the wall, like the ones at restaurant drive throughs.

“Medications,” AntiMatter informs him softly, moving forwards with everyone else. “Just take them. They don’t really do much, but please. They’ll hurt you if you don’t.”

Natemare sees genuine worry in AntiMatter’s brown eyes, and he nods, smiling, trying to reassure him. “I’ll take them.”

They make their way to the counter, and a staff member hands AntiMatter a small paper cup. Natemare sees several small pills, including a round white one, an oval yellow one, and a cylindrical orange one. AntiMatter swallows them all without hesitation, tossing the cup in the trashcan by the counter.

“Open.” Obeying the staff’s order, AntiMatter opens his mouth and turns his head to one side, then the other, showing that he swallowed the pills. The man behind the window smirks nastily. “Yeah, you’re good at swallowing, aren’t you? Fucking fairy.”

AntiMatter just turns and walks away, but Natemare doesn’t miss the embarrassed flush on his cheeks. Natemare accepts the cup, which has only one small pill in it. He swallows it easily and follows what AntiMatter did. The person waves him away, and he hurries to find AntiMatter.

He spots him sitting near the end of the room by himself. Natemare slips into a seat beside him, watching as AntiMatter wipes his eyes.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice thick. “Why are you following me around?”

“Why do they call you those things?” Natemare asks softly. “Those names?”

AntiMatter turns to look at him, giving him a look that’s asking Natemare if he’s really that dumb. “Because I made the mistake of letting it slip to them that I’m gay.”

AntiMatter’s expression is pained, and he sighs heavily, resting his head on the table. Brandon ambles over, along with a scruffy man that’s apparently named Drex. Brandon sits down, Drex remains standing.

“Hey, Matter,” Brandon greets AntiMatter softly.

AntiMatter raises his head, resting his face in one hand. “Brandon, Drex.”

“Are you okay, Nathan?” Brandon asks Natemare. “You got hit pretty solidly this morning.”

“What? Oh, that.” Natemare reaches up and touches the spot where they smacked him in the head. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“Matter, I heard them talking about upping your dosage.” Drex’ multicolored eyes are serious. He has dyed blue hair and scars running across the right side of his face. One of his eyes is grey, the other a soft, calming green.

“Thank you for telling me,” AntiMatter replies, voice biting. “Now let me do absolutely nothing about it.”

Drex shrugs and walks off, and Brandon follows a moment later. Natemare scoots closer, reaching over and hesitantly placing a hand on AntiMatter’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry they call you those things,” Natemare says softly. “You know there’s nothing to be ashamed of, right?”

Turning to look at him, AntiMatter sits up, shrugging Natemare’s hand off. Natemare sees tears in his eyes.

“Why do you care?” He asks despairingly.

“Because I can.” Natemare drops his hand. “I don’t know. I guess there’s nothing else to do except play cards.”

AntiMatter scoffs. “So I’m entertainment?”

“Sure,” Natemare says, smiling forcedly. “You’re entertainment. Cute entertainment, too.”

AntiMatter hesitates, then dares a small smile. He still looks pained, though. Another heavy sigh escapes him, and he puts his head down on his arm again. Natemare catches sight of a scar running across the back of his neck.

Natemare settles down in his chair, taking more time to look around the room. There’s no windows, and the doors to the surrounding rooms are all locked. There’s the window to the place where they got their medications, but that’s the only other opening besides the heavy door to the hall. The buzz of magic surrounds the entire place, and Natemare realizes that there really doesn’t seem to be any escape routes.

Christian walks over, sitting down by Natemare. “Hopelessness settin’ in?”

“I suppose so,” Natemare says slowly. “I’m just…I don’t know. Kind of in shock.”

“Mm, yeah.” Christian nods sagely. “That’ll pass.” He grins, looking pointedly at AntiMatter. “And it’ll pass easier once you’ve made a couple friends.”

“Will it really seem normal?” Natemare doesn’t believe this could ever become his reality. He already hates this place.

“In time.” For a moment, Christian looks sad. “It’ll all pass in time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanna chat about the story or anything else? Find me on Tumblr as silver-wolfheart!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for chapter: None apply (If you think I missed a warning, put it in the comments!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Chapter three might be a bit delayed" -- me back in april, two months ago, when this is supposed to be updated every monday .-. But it's here now buddy!!! Ch. 4 will be out soon too :3

The first thing that wakes Natemare is the squeaking. For a moment, he can’t figure out what it is, and sits up on his elbows to look around the room. It’s still dark, and only the glare from the large, industrial streetlights outside allow him to see the inside of the room. Then he looks over to AntiMatter’s bed.

AntiMatter is twitching, shaking like a leaf in a strong wind. The sheets are tangled around his legs. As Natemare watches, still not fully processing what he’s seeing, AntiMatter lets out a pathetic whimper and almost pitches himself off the bed. It’s the old mattress springs squeaking with AntiMatter’s movements that woke Natemare.

Almost without knowing he’s doing it, Natemare stands up and goes to AntiMatter’s bed. He stands at the edge for a few moments, just looking down at AntiMatter. What was he planning to do, anyways? He can’t just lay down in another person’s bed without asking. But AntiMatter whimpers again, head thrashing from side to side, and Natemare sits down.

He puts one hand on AntiMatter’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “Matthew. Matthew, wake up.”

It works immediately. AntiMatter’s eyes snap open, and he fights for a moment, lashing out with both hands to try to push Natemare away. One of his hands catches Natemare square on the jaw, and Natemare hisses in pain. That seems to snap AntiMatter out of it. He falls still and looks up at Natemare with wide, scared eyes.

“Nathan?” He asks hoarsely, blinking as if he can’t believe it. “What…what are you doing?”

“You were shaking.” Natemare untangles the sheets from around AntiMatter’s legs, feeling how AntiMatter is still trembling a little bit. “So, I figured you’d want to wake up.” Then he glances at AntiMatter inquisitively, a little smile on his face. “You did, right? Or did I wake you from an amazing sex dream?”

AntiMatter stares for a moment, then slowly shakes his head. “No, I…no. No amazing sex dreams for me. Just nightmares.”

“Shame,” Natemare replies, fighting the urge to hug AntiMatter. He has nightmares too sometimes, but they’re usually easily forgotten after a few bottles of liquor and some good old-fashioned fucking. Or…they were. He won’t be able to do that anymore.

“Did I wake you up?” AntiMatter asks, snapping him from his thoughts. “I’m sorry if I did. Usually I’m a bit quieter.”

“Oh, no, I woke myself up,” Natemare lies easily. He doesn’t want AntiMatter to think it’s his fault. “You make it sound like this happens every night.”

“It does.” AntiMatter pulls his knees to his chest, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “Sometimes during the day, too.” He looks over at Natemare tiredly. “Do you…need something?”

Natemare suddenly realizes he’s scooted closer to AntiMatter, their bodies almost touching. AntiMatter raises an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, no, I—” Natemare hurriedly moves back to the edge of the bed. “I’ll leave now, then.”

“Wait.” AntiMatter chews his lip for a moment, reaching his hand out and grabbing Natemare’s sleeve. “You can stay here, if you want. For a little while.” AntiMatter’s expression is unreadable, but Natemare picks up on something in his voice. Is that…wistfulness? Sadness?

Natemare can’t tell, and for a moment he doesn’t move. He just stands there, staring dumbly at AntiMatter. What does this imply? Is AntiMatter asking him for comfort, or just offering to let him sit in his bed for a bit? Is AntiMatter okay with this, or is he just trying to be nice? So many questions fill Natemare’s head that for a moment, he considers saying ‘No’ if only to save himself.

Natemare can’t believe this. Usually he’d be the one making AntiMatter flustered. He’s usually so smooth with people, talking them into anything, keeping up the personality of something akin to a classy old-time gentleman. If that classy old-time gentleman was also a fan of rough sex and severely depressed, that is.

Eventually, though, Natemare sits back down, pulling the sheets up to cover himself. For a moment, he’s unsure what to do. Should he move closer to AntiMatter? Or should he just lay back down? Does AntiMatter want him to cuddle?

“Stop sitting there like a frightened animal.” AntiMatter smiles tiredly at him, and Natemare realizes that’s the first time he’s ever heard AntiMatter sound…amused. “I don’t bite.”

Natemare quickly tries to regain some of his composure. “Not even if I want you to?”

AntiMatter raises his eyebrows questioningly. Before Natemare can come up with an answer, though, AntiMatter lays back down and turns away from Natemare.

“Well? Are you going to just sit there all night?” AntiMatter says when Natemare doesn’t follow his lead. “You can lay down, you know.”

The feeling of AntiMatter so close is putting Natemare on edge. He’s only known him for a day, and already Natemare is thinking about what it would be like to hold him, to be able to get far, far away from this place and have a life of their own. Natemare slowly lays down.

His mind drifts for a while as he looks at AntiMatter, staring at the scar on the back of his neck. He considers asking what it’s from, but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. It’s kind of peaceful right now. The room is silent, dark except for the slice of light from outside. AntiMatter’s body is a solid presence next to his, even without them touching, and Natemare takes a deep breath.

“Goodnight, Matthew,” he whispers. He doesn’t expect AntiMatter to reply.

But a few moments later, Natemare hears his voice. “Goodnight, Nathan.”

~

Natemare glances up as the doors open. Brandon and Drex do the same, all staring at the man that’s suddenly walked into the room. Only AntiMatter remains staring at the table.

Brandon makes a face. “Oh, not him again.”

“Who--?” Natemare starts, but Drex shushes him with a flap of his hand.

The man is standing in the doorway, looking around with an expression that suggests he just stepped in something disgusting and is seeing it on the bottom of his shoe. He’s wearing a crisp black suit, the creases looking sharp enough to cut someone. His build is tall and broad, with steel grey hair and stormy eyes that are set under bushy eyebrows. A scar runs down the side of his face, twisting into the collar of his shirt.

“The superintendent is coming to…survey this establishment today.” The man’s voice is surprisingly high pitched, and it sounds like he’s just getting over a sore throat. “As such, this ward gets to appreciate my generosity and go outside for a few hours today. You’ll be allowed to communicate with the women as well.”

Natemare watches as several of the patients grin at each other, including Christian and Brandon. There’s a women’s ward? Thinking about it, Natemare realizes it makes sense, but he never made the connection before now that there would be more than this ward.

The man gives one final glance around the room. The sour expression on his face becomes more intense as he does. However, he stays silent, only turning on his heel and leaving. As soon as he does, talking breaks out again. Natemare had barely realized it had gone silent in the first place.

“Who was that?” Natemare tries again, looking around at the other men at his table.

“That’s…huh. He’s pretty much the deputy to the deputy of the superintendent,” Brandon says, and snorts. “We’re pretty sure he wants to become superintendent himself one day.”

Natemare looks back at the door where the man left. “Do you guys know anyone from the women’s ward?”

“Yeah, most of us have someone we’re close with.” Christian sounds as if he’s looking forward to it. “Why, even our fruity friend Matter over here has a nice girl waiting for him in the forbidden land of Ward F!” Christian mimes fainting, holding a hand to his forehead. “Matter, oh Matter, where art thou!”

AntiMatter sniffs. “She’s a friend.”

“Oh, I know,” Christian replies. “I’m just teasing. What’s her name again?”

“Belladonna. She’s…it’s complicated what she is. Besides, she’s not into guys,” AntiMatter says, and he looks at Natemare.

“You two are truly the perfect match,” Brandon says with faux adoration, resting his head on his hands.

For a moment, Natemare thinks he’s talking about AntiMatter and himself.

Then Brandon continues. “A lesbian and a gay man – the perfect pair!”

Natemare relaxes as he sees a small smile on AntiMatter’s face.

“When do you reckon we’ll be able to go outside?” The question comes from Christian. “I want to see Sofie. We haven’t seen each other since…how long ago was it?”

“A couple months, at least,” Brandon replies. He glances at the orderlies, who are in the nurse’s station, putting papers in a stack. “Looks like they’re getting ready.” 

AntiMatter moves a bit closer to Natemare as Brandon and Christian get up, walking over to Alfred and talking with him. For a moment, Natemare doesn’t notice, and when he turns back around, he jumps in surprise.

“Sorry.” AntiMatter flinches slightly, turning his head away. “I was wondering if you’d like me to introduce you to Bella, my friend.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure, if you want to,” Natemare replies. He stands up, tempted to take AntiMatter’s hand as the orderlies herd them towards the wall. The patients all stand against it obediently, and Natemare follows their leads. He stands up against the wall closely next to AntiMatter. AntiMatter hangs his head as a staff member walks past them to stand at the end of the line. He doesn’t seem to be brave enough to even keep his head raised around them.

Natemare glances on either side of him. Deciding to risk it just this once, he reaches down and slips his hand into AntiMatter’s. AntiMatter doesn’t move, and for a moment Natemare thinks he’s made a mistake. Then AntiMatter squeezes his hand gently. The brunet’s hand is strangely cold, but Natemare doesn’t mind the feeling. In fact, he somewhat enjoys it against his own hot skin.

They slowly file through the ward doors, staff members in front and behind of the line. They’re armed with the batons. Natemare isn’t eager to get them used on him. He’s careful not to look at AntiMatter in case it gives them away as they slowly walk with the rest of the men out into the courtyard.

Natemare blinks in the sudden sunlight. It’s been a few days since he’s gone outside or felt the sun and the wind on his face. He looks around as he finally steps into center section of the facility. The orderlies stand at the doorway to their building, looking disgruntled.

Looking around, Natemare takes stock of the area. Four buildings, four stories each, surround the courtyard he’s standing in. The outside area is dirt, with four cement sidewalks coming from every building and meeting in the middle. Between each of the buildings, high chain link fences stand, buzzing with an aura of magic. Searchlights, turned off and blank in the bright light of day, stand positioned at key points around the fences. And beyond the fences… There’s a single far off highway, with a road leading to an unknown building a little bit away.

The only way out of the courtyard is a locked gate. Guards with guns stand at it, faces covered in black eye shields.

Natemare glances around hopelessly. Suddenly, not even the feeling of AntiMatter’s hand still holding his own can comfort him. He’s trapped here forever, isn’t he? A choking lump rises in his throat and hot tears prick his eyes. He’s never getting out. He’s never going to be able to live with AntiMatter somewhere safe, far away from…

 _Wait._ _What?_

Natemare is taken aback at himself. The confusion he gets from the realization he has…feelings for AntiMatter swamp even the hopelessness and sadness starting to overtake him.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as AntiMatter pulls away from him, untangling their hands. Looking up, Natemare sees a woman walking towards AntiMatter with a small smile on her face.

The woman is shorter than AntiMatter, with brown hair going down below her shoulders that’s tied back in a ponytail. She holds herself with an air of confidence, even as the staff members walking out behind her and the rest of the women sneer. Another woman walks behind her, the same height, but with bright blue eyes and lighter brown hair cut at her shoulders. As the first walks closer, Natemare sees she has skin tinted green, and her eyes are a curious kaleidoscope of greens and browns.

“My name is Discord, but I prefer Bella,” the one with green skin says, addressing Natemare and looking at him curiously. “You are…?”

“Nathan.” Natemare glances at AntiMatter. “So, this is your friend?”

“Yeah, this is her. He’s new.” AntiMatter hesitates, then smiles back at Discord. “I think you’ll like him.”

Just then, the other woman speaks. “I’m Morgana. I’m with her.” She looks appraisingly at Natemare. “Are you crazy like Matthew or just have weird powers like Christian?”

“Neither. I’m…just sad.” Natemare looks at the ground uncomfortably. A few scraggly blades of grass grow beneath his feet.

“Hmm.” Morgana turns to AntiMatter with a wide grin. “We think we found a way out.”

Natemare immediately raises his head. A way out? He’ll do anything if it means being able to get himself ( _And Matthew_ , a little voice in his head whispers) out. AntiMatter scoffs in disbelief at Morgana.

“Give it up. There isn’t one.”

Morgana shares a glance with Discord. “Oh, there is. But we need the guys’ help. A few fae and some witches just aren’t enough.” She turns to Natemare and grins wickedly. “We’re going to raze this place to the ground.”


End file.
